


Lazy Morning

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddles, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Lazy Sex, M/M, Morning Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loves how Sam smells, and in the mornings, Sam's smell is all around him, and Sam's body is just too good to resist. Dean wakes Sam up for a slow, sexy morning, enjoying the scent and feel of his little brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Morning

If there's one thing Dean fucking loves, it's smell. He loves the smell of his Baby, all worn leather, vinyl, and gunpowder; a weird, warm haze that is so homey to him that he just can't get enough. It smells of the road. He loves the smell of the grill in the Bunker's kitchen when he cooks Sam dinner, the delicious waft of steak sizzling to perfection. He's even come to love the musty old book smell that permeates strongly throughout the library--he's begun to associate it with Sam. Which brings him to what smell he loves the most out of all smells: his other baby, Sammy.

Sam smells of so many things. Sam smells somehow of honey, something musky but sweet. He smells of flowery laundry detergent and cotton. And right now, drooling and dead asleep next to Dean, he smells like something personal, too, a Sam-scent. His last shower (his hair smells of that dumb coconut conditioner) has all but worn off, leaving a sweaty, delicious smell that's curling all around Dean and all across the pillows and sheets, and it invokes some primal, lizard-brain part of Dean to stir and wake up. If Dean could choose to just lie here and smell Sam, to bury his nose in his hair, he fucking would. That's Dean's personal heaven. Sam safe and secure, calm and serene, and all Dean's to smell. Mmm.

Sam's lying on his back with his arms spread all across the mattress, his face tilted toward Dean. His hair fans out across the pillow like a brown wreath circling his head. Dean's on his side, just watching him, almost half-hard and content to stay that way. Sam opens his mouth in his sleep, licking his lips and making a soft little sigh-mewl thing. It's fucking adorable. Sam is all muscle and brains and speed, an equal match to Dean, but like this he's just...  _adorable_. That's the only word that Dean thinks really fits. When Sam feels safe and lazy, he's easy with the smiles and little jokes, content to curl up in Dean's lap like a cat. All that hunter bullshit, the masculine macho brave silence they both put on sometimes, completely disappears. Sam talks easily, about the real stuff, and he talks his way past Dean's defenses until he's talking too, and the talking leads to cuddling and petting.  _Heavy_  petting. Even though sometimes it seems to be pushed away or closed off, Sam still has a huge, giant, bleeding heart, an emotional side that melts Dean every damn time. Sam has always had that mysterious way with Dean, ever since he could speak, that made Dean want to protect those soft doe eyes, want to touch his face and hold him and feel him all over. As a kid, he didn't have any way to describe it, and a more instinctual part of him knew never to bring it up to Dad or any adults. It was just _them_.

And, as they grew... well, it just grew. Monster is too negative of a word to describe what Dean holds for Sam, what he has inside, but it grew just like one. Like Sam's own crazy fast growth spurt. Dean dropped off a tiny kid at the bus stop and tackled a fucking man to the ground in that apartment all those years ago. 

Somehow, here they still are, and Sam is still a kid in there, behind all the unthinkable hurts and traumas, and Dean is, too, even though he hides it. But it's moments like this, where not even God is watching, that he feels they really are themselves. In the most intimate, private settings, that's when they're Sam n' Dean. In public, they're the Winchesters. And so it goes.

Dean can't help but get sappy when Sam has no worry lines on his face and no sobs caught in his throat. He just can't believe that they're still here, and finally almost whole again. So close to being close again. He reaches out with the hand not propping himself up and pushes Sam's hair off of his face, the silky strands sliding easily through his fingers. Sam leans into the touch, his eyes moving under his eyelids like lightning bugs zinging through the air. 

Dean is quiet as he peels off his shirt and lets it drop silently to the floor beside the bed. He shucks off his boxers and disposes of them the same way. The sheets are soft against his bare skin, and his cock gives a little twitch. He shuffles closer to Sam until his knee is pressing up against Sam's leg. He drapes himself over Sam's side, Sam's furnace-warmth oozing into him and making him feel even more cozy than he already was. He pulls a hand up to cup at Sam's jaw, rubbing his thumb along the stubbly skin there. He slides his fingers up behind Sam's ear and gets a better grip, his thumbs tracing the apples of Sam's cheeks. 

Sam makes a noise like a baby and moves his head up and into Dean's palm, his lips thinning as he dips slightly out of sleep.

"S'fine," Dean murmurs, his voice quiet and still sleep-rough. Sam instantly relaxes, and Dean curls his fingers through his hair, his hips twitching forward just a little. It's not uncomfortable yet, and he's gonna need to relieve the pressure sometime soon, but for now, he just wants to admire and pet. 

He's content to let Sam sleep--the kid doesn't get much of it anyway, and right now is kind of a miracle moment. He lets his head fall onto Sam's shoulder, tilting his nose into the material of Sam's shirt and breathing in deeply.  _God, yes_. Sam-scent floods his nose and he swears his heartbeat slows down and speeds up at the same time, like Sam is both a soporific and an aphrodisiac. That would make sense, Dean thinks, 'cause Sam is made up of a bunch of beautiful contradictions, of handsomeness and feminine beauty wrapped up in one perfect body that belongs to Dean, just like he belongs to Sam.

He curls an arm around Sam's waist and just keeps breathing him in, his face mashed up against Sam's chest. He hooks a leg over one of Sam's, smooshing them closer together. 

After reveling in that quiet moment, he really can't ignore the fact that he's leaking precome all over Sam's pajama pants. His purple plaid pajama pants, Dean might add, that Sam has some sort of deep, emotional connection with. Well, Dean supposes, getting up on his hands and knees, Sam's just gonna have to part with them right now.

He straddles Sam and crawls up his body. He noses his chin and Sam goes easy, exposing his long throat to Dean. Dean holds back a growl and kisses him there, flooding his mouth with saliva and making his ministrations messy and loud. He sucks on Sam's adam's apple, bruising and biting, before ducking down and smelling Sam there and repeating the process. He's fully awake now, all parts of him included. It just takes one firm kiss on the mouth for Sam's eyes to slowly flutter open, Sleeping Beauty awake from slumber, thin, hazel eyes blinking drowsily up at him and Dean has never been more smitten. 

"Morning," he rumbles, and kisses Sam again.

Sam makes a little low noise of protest and taps weakly at Dean's back. Dean raises up, looking down at Sam's tiny smile. "Morning breath," Sam tells him, his eyes looking more clear and coherent now, but his cheeks are still pink with sleep.

"Don't care," Dean says, and he just barely sees Sam's eye-roll before he's moving back down again. Sam's lips part easily with a little nudge, and in no time at all Dean is able to lap into his mouth and suck on Sam's tongue. Sam's mouth keeps falling open wider and wider, and his legs are doing the same, and Dean can't help but smirk into the kiss, turning it dirtier and dirtier, exploring deeper into Sam's mouth, Sam's own tongue pressing needily against Dean's.

Sam lets out a high moan into Dean's mouth, and Dean moves his lips to the corner of Sam's mouth, kissing at the slowly forming dimples there. Dean would never say it to Sam because he'd never hear the end of it, but even Sam's spit and gross morning breath smell so good to Dean. Any Sam smell he can get, he loves. He loves knowing Sam's scent better than his own. If he were blind, he muses that he could probably still smell his way to Sam, detecting little hints of book spine glue and graveyard dirt in a trail leading home. 

Dean moves down to Sam's chin and then rises up again, tugging on the collar of Sam's night shirt. "Off?"

Sam chuckles softly and smiles, eyes narrowed and dark, face half little brother mischief and half sex, a perfect combination to Dean, and another bead of precome spills out of his cockhead. 

Sam shuffles around, still too tired to actually get up, dragging his shirt up over his hips and shoulders. He fumbles a bit with his arms in the sleeves but finally manages to tear the damn thing off and cast it away. Dean yanks on the waistband of his fuzzy pants, and Sam raises his ass so Dean can drag them all the way down to his ankles. Sam kicks them off. Sam's got his boxers off before Dean can even blink, and then a large, warm hand is curling around the back of his neck and pressing him back down.

"Needy bastard," Dean whispers against Sam's lips, but Sam isn't in the mood to talk. Dean can tell that he's still in the last vestiges of sleepiness, but the languid movement of Sam's body only makes him hotter, more attractive to Dean. To see Sam so open and carefree, as only Dean  _ever_  has, is pretty much the epitome of sin. God. Dean responds to Sam's plaintive whine with a deeper kiss, his hips gyrating down against Sam's hardening dick. Dean distracts Sam with his talented tongue and reaches down between them to curl a fist around the base of Sam's length.

Sam jumps, his mouth falling open against Dean's. He gasps. Dean noses Sam's face, nudging Sam's chin up so he can press his nose against the spot where Sam's hair curls around his ear. This is Dean's favorite spot. If he bites it, it drives Sam wild, and it just smells so damn  _good,_  so much stronger than his throat or his chest. He sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin and Sam leaks all over Dean's hand, his cock hot and constantly twitching. 

Dean jerks Sam slow and rough, squeezing at the base and dragging the skin up to bunch around the delicate area beneath the head. Sam moans low and slutty, his hands fumbling and clenching in the sheets. "Dean,  _yes_ ," he slurs, his body moving like a slow-motion wave. He's sweating now, his skin heaving and shiny, and fucking fuck, it smells so good. Sam's musky sweat, combined with the salty smell of sex in the air, is blurring Dean's vision and making him weak.

Dean has to focus on just breathing or this will all be over too soon. His own dick is so hard that it hurts, red and heavy, and he ruts against Sam's hip for a moment before shifting and holding the both of them in his hand. He lifts his head up from Sam's neck and looks down between them, aligning their cockheads together and rubbing them slowly, so slowly, a warm fire curling its way up his spine and causing him to swear.

Sam isn't any better off, the oversensitive baby, and he's panting like a dog. He keeps bucking up against Dean, trying to up the speed, but Dean is fine with slowly building to an orgasm. 

"We'll get there, Sammy," he mumbles, trying to placate his brother, "just relax, lay back, 'kay?"

Sam grumbles but falls back onto the bed with a long exhale. Dean kisses him soundly, biting and nibbling at Sam's bottom lip. Sam is loose and pliant, and he lets Dean control the kiss, lets Dean keep it sort of chaste. Dean works to keep their pace steady, his hips sliding their cocks together and his hand adding even more stimulation. Dean's other hand wanders over Sam's slim little body, bumping over his cut hips and rubbing at his happy trail. He pets Sam at the same pace that he jerks him, and Sam's hands fly from the bed to Dean's back, holding on tight, his nails digging into Dean's skin.

"God, you're so perfect," Dean moans into Sam's mouth, biting back a grunt. His hips stutter a little and he knows he's close, but shit, he just wants to hold on, wants to live in this moment with Sam forever. He knows without a doubt that if they ever do make it back to heaven, he'll end up right back here in this bed on this morning.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Sam keens, his voice several octaves higher than usual and absolutely wrecked, and his fingers are dancing all across Dean's back, squeezing his hips and palming the rise of his ass. "Dean, fuck, _please_."

“Please what, Sammy?" Dean pants, stroking them faster, and Sam's hips have lost their discipline. The two of them move in tandem, their crowns brushing with every thrust. 

"So good..." Sam fumbles, his hands squeezing at the soft spots on Dean's sides. "Dean, so good, you're, ah, ah, mm, just want you."

Dean laughs, kissing Sam wetly. "You got me," he tells Sam, and he feels his orgasm down in his toes, in his spine, and he can't hold off any longer.

" _Sammy,_ " he cries, fucking down against Sam roughly, his hips moving in one, two, three more pumps before he comes mashing his nose against Sam's jaw and letting out a hoarse sob, spilling all over Sam's chest, and the throbbing, electric feeling is almost too much, combined with Sam's soft skin, Sam's cock, Sam's smell.

Sam whimpers continuously now, unable to stop, and Dean keeps rutting for his brother’s sake, moves his hand to stroke at a sensitive vein on the underside of Sam's dick that he knows always gets Sam all the way there. 

Sam's whimpering gets higher and his dick is pulsating in Dean's hand, twitching and spasming until Sam finally sighs and flops bonelessly back onto the bed, his eyes shut and mouth open as his orgasm completely overpowers him. He spills in pulses up to his fucking chin, the little pornstar, his dick lying pink and long against his tummy.

Dean rolls off of Sam and lies next to him, shutting his eyes and grinning. The smile is stuck on his face and he can't get it off, and he knows it must look cheeky, but well. Knowing that he drives Sam just as wild as Sam does with him, knowing all of his fucked-up passion and devotion is completely and equally requited... there's nothing like that. He can't help but feel a bit smug that he and Sam have the best fucking love in the whole world,  no contest. No one comes anywhere within the galaxy of close. Sam is too perfect, as a partner and as a little brother and as a best friend, and he knows first hand Sam worships him, too. Sam curls up against Dean, laying his arm on Dean's stomach and his head on Dean's shoulder. They're both sticky and messy, but they can share a shower later. Dean likes how Sam's release smells, anyway, of course. Today is all theirs, and Dean can tell already that they're going to spend the whole of it in bed.

Sam kisses his neck. "That was nice," he says, his voice ringing with amusement.

"You're welcome," Dean says back, dragging an arm around Sam's waist and squeezing. "You were just looking too good, Sammy. I had to punish that."

Sam scoffs, but Dean can feel his lips curling up on his skin. "I was sleeping."

Dean hums. "Yeah."

"If that's my punishment for sleeping, I think I better get a few more hours from now on."

"Good boy, Sammy!" Dean pumps his free hand in the air. "See, that was my cunning plan all along. Now I just gotta move on to food... every time you eat a whole meal, blowjob for you, I promise."

Sam is silent, and Dean lets him think, can hear him thinking. He runs his hand up and down Sam's waist, bumping over his ribs. He feels a myriad of scars and moles on Sam's side, has each one memorized, knows where each scar comes from. 

After a pause Sam clears his throat, pressing even closer against Dean. "Thank you," he says quietly, and Dean understands him perfectly, never stopped, even during the rough years where he wasn't sure they'd ever really be brothers again. He knows what Sam is thanking him for just like he knows the lines on Sam's face.

"Anytime, Sammy," Dean tells him, "anytime." He knows Sam hears the hidden promise that things will keep getting better, that they'll keep repairing themselves until their souls are pressed together and perfectly aligned again. Ever since hell, and since so many other things, they'd fallen apart in a number of different ways, and not being able to touch Sam had been a constant pain in his heart. Now, though, Sam's let him back in, Sam is getting better, in body and in mind, and that's all Dean wants. That's all he'll ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated <3


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